I set up to write this blog about all the different cultures of the world, and what they’re all about. Their habits, society traits and what not. But then I realized I know nothing about 99 percent of the cultures, including my own. I barely even know what the French people are all about, but I do occasionally try to translate the words on the opposite of my cereal in the morning so I think I’m qualified to teach people about Frenchies…

I like French people, they’re pretty chill, or at least the ones that I’ve met. Including my buddy from Quebec that I worked with when I was out west a couple of years back. My buddies name was Vincent and he lived in a small town across from the St. Lawrence river from Quebec City named Charney.

There are two things that I focused my attention on while I was there.

One, be on Just for Laugh gags.

Two, find the perfect poutine.

If you have never watched the Comedy Network between 9am and 5pm than you probably don’t know what Just for Laugh gags are. It’s basically show that is muted for the most part, other than the terrible “elevator” type music that they play through-out the show. They do pranks on random people in the public that are somewhat elaborate. One episode, they played a prank where one guy would go up to a bystander and ask for directions. At one point the two people get separated for only an instant but when they reconnect the first guy gets switched out with another person. The point of this is to see if the bystander notices that the guy switched places with some who, is wearing the same clothes but had no similarities. For example a white dude gets switched out with a black dude and for the most part the victim had no idea. That proves to me that either one, Frenchies are totally NOT racist or two, they’re completely obvious!

So I wanted to be a part of that so when they do prank me I can FREAK OUT and start losing it on the actors/actresses on the show to throw them off and to ultimately prank them! At one point during my trip I THOUGHT I was on the show, but the lady behind the counter at McDonalds just messed my order. They didn’t appreciate when I threw my pop at the wall and screamed “I REFUSED TO BE GAGGED!”

Awkward….

On my trip I also wanted to find the best poutine in Quebec. I ate so much damn poutine while I was there , it was unreal, and by unreal I mean FUCKING AWESOME! In Ontario there are two types of poutine; good and bad. In Quebec, there are some many different types of poutines. I had poutines with potato wedges, with candy, on top of pizza, tons of different ways. I gotta say though, I easily gain around 10 pounds during this journey, but it was worth it! The winner was this place that was called “Rotisserie Fusee”, which translates to “Rocket Chicken”, which already puts the place in the top 5 based on the name alone. Now what made the poutine so damn good was the fact they put Chicken Nuggets in the poutine. Yeah…let that sink in.

Check them out HERE, there glorious!
Stick around for the Frenchie Blog part 2, coming to a poutinerie near you…

They say “You don’t know how stupid a person is until they speak”…well I say “You don’t know how stupid someone is until you see how they handle driving in the snow.”

It happens every winter; snow falls and everyone loses it.

Before I get to far into this little rant of mine I’m going to point out that I hate winter driving a lot, for many reasons, that’s why I avoid it at all costs. So much so that I actually took my car of the road, of course saving 400 dollars a month is also a nice bonus. I figure I live in a town that it would only take you 20 minutes to WALK across town, twice, and still be able to stop to grab a slice of za. I live a block away from work and the radio station I work at is nice enough to allow me to use the station vehicle to do my grocery shopping every couple of weeks. So what’s the point of keeping my car on the road in this one horse town…which is ironic cause this town has a shit load of horses.

Besides, I had my car on the road last spring, and we all know what happened then….

I don’t trust the drivers in this town.

As far as I can tell there are two types of dumbass drivers in this town. The women 4 feet and under and guys 6 feet and over.

Somehow, the short women of this town all managed to find a husband that works construction, or something along those lines, because they all drive trucks bigger than my college apartment. Which is confusing….if you’re not tall enough to see over the steering wheel than why don’t you drive a smaller car or at least get a fuckin booster seat, and stop trying to maneuver a parallel park…you know you’re going to just go back and forth until you give up and drive away, leaving the rest of traffic waiting while you’re humoring yourself.

Now the only thing worse than an over precautionary woman driver are the assholes that don’t realize the rest of the towns drivers don’t take Hummers or other similar dick-compensating, 4 wheel vehicles to go for a Timmies run. For example, nice lady driving kids to school on a snowy morning. Some douche comes driving up, passes the lady and scares the shit out of her and her kids. Of course that lady isn’t going to cruise at mach 5 while the roads are slick, but all this douchebag is thinking is “Move… bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way”

That was a Ludacris lyrics before….jus incase you were wondering why there’s a picture of him there…

ANYWAY…

Of course that story sometimes has a happy ending, with the douche having to shovel out 300 hundred dollars to get dragged out of the ditch. All the while the lady safely passes the douche and makes it to her destination in time for her kids to play in the snow in the playground…

…awwwwww.

And now to discuss the positive things that winter brings us…

Snow angels…peeing in the snow.

Ahhhhh…

Fully clothed fat people? I can’t think of a third one…

I remember I used to like winter a lot more, but I think I was 12 and lived across the street from the number 1 tobogganing hill in the town between ages 10-16. Which eventually came the number one taboozing destination between ages 17-18.

TABOOZING!

That’s the third thing.

By the way, if you were a loser in high school and wasn’t invited ever to go tabazooing or if you just didn’t go because “it was too cold” than you’re not only a loser but also a little bit of a bitch. Basically Taboozing is where you and your friends (or friend…or just you) will go get shittered and fall down a hill. Kind of like what Western girls do at Jim Bobs on a Friday night, except replace the hill with stairs.

Looks kinda like this…

Ahh, Western girls….oh how I’ve missed ye.

So in closing; winter = good

winter drivers = cautionary

dumbass winter driver = one notch below Ketchup…

And that’s saying something.

Now, if you’re still here; why not take part in this poll on the current theme of this blog?

A New Year. A whole new series of blogs full of spelling mistakes, bad grammar and a bunch of shenaniganiness…

It’s been a while since I’ve made a post and there were literally PAIRS of people asking why I haven’t been writing any posts. Well for one, I actually forgot about this website.

It was only when I Goggled “websites that hate ketchup more than stubbing your toe” that I came across this website again. After reading through all the different posts for about an hour I realized that this was IN-FACT my website.

It was like Christmas morning all over again.

Which is the perfect Segway in to the second reason why I wasn’t posting.

December, that’s why.

I get why Christmas is awesome; you see old friends and family member that you only see during the holidays. There’s tons of food that’s always better than the food you eat the other 363 days of the year (not including Bacon Day, September 3rd) and of course the presents. Presents that evolved from Lego and Buzz Lightyear action figures, which was fucking awesome, to socks and dress shirts, which now that you’re old enough to appreciate them…is equally as fucking awesome.

Except for that one year I got a calculator for Christmas…fail ONE math test and all of a sudden your Gilbert Grape.

I’ve mentioned it before but I doubt anyone read far enough into that blog to remember, matter of fact I’m am confident in saying that no one has even made it this far in this blog. I’m all alone, I can say what I want.

I DIDN’T START FLOSSING TIL I WAS 20!

*cough*

ANNNNNYWAYS….

Like I was saying before I got out of hand. I’ve mentioned before that I work the weekend and holiday shifts at my radio station to pull in some extra money. Holiday shifts obviously include Christmas eve and all of Boxing week but luckily I got Christmas Day off.

That allowed me to drive down to Chatham around noon on Christmas Eve and I drove back on Christmas Night to be back in time for my Boxing Day shift the next day at 9am. So basically I drove just over 6 hours so I could be at home for just over 24 hours. Which was nice.

Warning; the following is a tender moment. I didn’t tell my mom I was able to make it down, so as far as she was concerned I was missing this year’s Christmas. LITTLE DID SHE KNOW HER SON IS A LYING BASTARD. I showed up on Christmas eve and surprised her while she was sitting with my dog on the living room couch.

That showed her who her favorite son SHOULD BE….actually I kind of screwed myself over cause I had nowhere to sleep.

Should have thought ahead…

I drove back Christmas night, only because I hated the idea of sleeping on the love seat for another night and having to wake up at 6am to drive for 3 hours in the snow.

By the way, does anyone else feel like they are in Stars Wars going through hyperspace anytime you’re driving through a snowfall? Know what I mean? No? Ok, I’ll just continue…I also hadn’t drank any booze all Christmas day, not because I’m straight edge but rather because I was driving my grandmother around….and she hogs all the booze.

Driving back that night and realizing how ridiculously sober I was; I wanted to hit a ride program. Pretty much just so I can boast about sobriety, but just my luck…drive for 3 hours and not one copper in sight. Typical! The ONE time I wasn’t booze cruising down highway 2 and I don’t get pulled over.

I KID, I KID!

Anyways, I’m tired of typing. So I’ll post more later this week, or month….or year….

This past weekend I visited Canada’s answer for diversity, otherwise known as Windsor, Ontario.

If you’ve never been there, I’m referring to the over abundance of different ethnic groups.
Now, first I should explain that I have no problem with any ethic group. This blog isn’t going to be about tearing any culture apart or really anything like that. I was just pointing out that there’s a lot of them.

It’s kind of like how, in Mongolia, the population of Horses out number the population of humans. Not sure if that’s true, but I read it in an Uncle John’s Bathroom reader, so it seems legit.

NOT SAYING THAT THOSE PEOPLE ARE HORSES, but wouldn’t that be fucking awesome! I city ran on horses! Horse bus drivers, horse bankers, horse doctors, horse police officers…wait, are the horses that the cops ride on top of considered police officers?

ANNNNYWAYS…

I lived in Windsor last year for roughly 4 months while working at the local Blackburn radio branch. I never used to drive a car there, preferred public transit a lot more and if you’ve ever had to drive through Windsor, you know exactly why that is.
I went to Windsor to see a good buddy of mine, Jay, because he was getting married to another good friend of mine, Jessica. I couldn’t make it to his bachelor party so I thought a night of poker and heavy drinking downtown would have to do.

(Aren’t they cute?)

When I did have a car in Windsor and was dropping by Jay’s place, I usually park at a parking lot across the street from their apartment building. This parking lot, just like every other one in Windsor, was a pay parking lot, but I didn’t pay…not because I think I’m hardcore, because I didn’t have change and I never used to pay there.

Remember that I didn’t pay.

After winning the poker game, where the payout wasn’t money but rather just beers at the bar, we all headed dt (that stands for downtown, not Ducktales like I had once thought).

At the Honest Lawyer’s in Windsor there’s a guy who works behind the bar and is kind of a douche. You know those bartenders that flip bottles and what-not? They’re pretty badass….BUT, the bartenders that TRY to do that but fail…well they try their hardest so I can’t hate on them.

However the guy who was behind the bar last weekend was a tool who THOUGHT he could do crazy shit like that, but couldn’t, and he had the cocky attitude as if he could…YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!

My buddy and I were waiting for a beer, APPARENTLY behind the section of the bar that they don’t serve, which I didn’t think existed. So instead of telling us that when we first got there, he had us wait forever and THEN tell us that he couldn’t serve us at where we were standing.

You Son-ofa-bitch…

After awhile we went to this place in Windsor called the loop. Now if you’ve been there than you’re either….

A) a hipster

B) a person who enjoys dancing uncontrollable to songs that were hits 30 years ago

or C) you’re not a douche that judges people for dancing uncontrollably to songs that were hits 30 years ago.
I’m B).

At one point in the night I was trying to request a song that I didn’t know the title to, but I was trying to sing it out. This song doesn’t have “lyrics” per say, but rather just an Italian man rambling of words and phrases that very well could be in Italian but the fuck do I know? I don’t speak Italian.

Sweaty, sweaty balls ensued…

Time to head ova to the golden arches and pick up a 10 pack of chicken nuggets.

Fuck ya, chicken nuggets.

Now we’re walking back to crash when I went over to my car to grab my bag…remember when I said I didn’t pay the parking ticket? Yeah, you probably know where this is going…

If you’re thinking I got a fat ass ticket…well…you’re wrong. These assholes sidestepped that and went right to “Let’s tow this mother fuckers car!”

You sons-of-bitches.

Yep, my car got towed as well as my bag with my smokes and contact stuff in it.

Great. Do you know how hard it is to sleep, on the floor, after a night of drinking, your car is towed, you have no smokes and your contacts are still in your eyes?

It’s very fucking hard.

I just remember trying to pass out watching the last half of Austin Powers: Goldmember…did anyone find that movie funny?

Fucking terrible.

ANNNWAYYYSSS….

Jessica, the angel she is, loans me her smoke pack. I attempt to kill time, at 4 in the morning, by hanging out on their balcony.

Which is an amazing balcony!

Just look at this fucking view of Windsor/Detroit.

So now the Austin Powers movie is over and I still can’t even begin to drift off. JUST THEN, a legendary voice came on the TV and said the most glorious words it could have said it that moment…

“Coming up next on (TV Channel I can’t remember)…Die Hard with Bruce Willis”

Fuck ya…

I wasn’t tired anyway.

I spend an hour or so watching that movie and finally around 5:30 I pass out.

Wake up and get a ride to get my car out of the lot. 120 dollars later, I realized that it would have only cost me 3 dollars to park there and instead I’m out 120 bucks.

Does anyone else do the thing where when they’re out a certain amount of money they think of all the things they could have bought with that money? I’m not talking about bills and rent and shit, I mean like those new shoes you wanted, that video game you were gonna get or even that set of Miracle blades from that infomercial you love.

I’m driving back now thinking of my stupidity when I get a text from Jessica asking me where I left her smoke pack from the night before. A moment of thought passes, which tends to last 2 or 3 minutes, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out her smoke pack.

Now, I feel like garbage, not only was she nice enough to loan me them in the first place, but now I pretty much stole them from the bride-to-be.

“Sorry, Jessica! There in my pocket, I really didn’t mean to do that. I feel like shit!”

I would have returned them but I was already 45 minutes outta town.
“It’s ok…”

(Isn’t she a doll?)

“Enjoy the dub that’s in there too J”
This was my face after I read that text.

I know that most of the time in these blogs I tend to talk about things I hate. Like Ketchup, Snookie, Old people who don’t know how to drive etc. I would like to talk about something that I really like.
But I’m not…

It’s just not entertaining, not that the following blog will be entertaining, you’re just going to have to read on to find out.

Don’t you hate Moving Day?

Recently I made the plan to move into a buddy’s house that’s in the same town that was living in before. I told my landlord I’m moving out and he asked when I would like to get out. I responded, “Just like the girls in the morning after, I want to get out of my apartment as soon as possible.”

My landlord lives in Cambridge (roughly 2 hours from where I live) so we made the deal where I help him by showing the apartment to people who are interested. This way he saves him self a couple of trips to Wingham and not only do I get my rent money back but there’s a chance that one of the people who come by to check out the apartment is a porn star.

BOW-CHICKA-WAH-WOW

Sadly that fantasy did not play out since the only people who came by was an old women and a dude…I still banged one of them though, I’ll leave it to your imagination to choose which.

I finally get the apartment rented out and HOLY SHIT I JUST SAW A BIRD OUT MY WINDOW GET SMOKED BY A FUCKIN CAR!

It’s real life awesome?

ANNNNYYYYWWWAAYYS

My landlord asked if I could be out by Saturday, that was Tuesday when he asked. I really wanted that rent money back so I took the challenge.

After a sleepless night of planning out the whole move and of course the occasional Kraft Dinner break; I was mentally ready to GTFO.

I spent the past 3 days getting everything packed and moved.

Have you ever packed up and moved all of your earthly possession in less than 3 days?

It fucking sucks.

This is where good friends come in. After some buddies from the station gave me a hand, everything was handled in a matter of hours.

Pretty badass, amirite?

Does anyone else get extremely sentimental about an apartment or house when you’re moving out?

I just remember thinking, “This is the last time I’m going to eat cereal in this apartment.” “This is the last time I’m going to have a marathon NHL 12 session.” “This is the last time that I’ll be COMPLETELY NAKKID…in this apartment.”

In the end it was a successful move; it was about as difficult as it was for the people in “What’s eating Gilbert Grape” to move the incredibly fat mother out of the house.

I don’t want to move again for at least a week, but I know I’ll have to get out of this chair to take a piss eventually.

When I started to write this blog I realized I would be using the term “old people” more than I should. So I decided to come up with a new name to refer to my elders.

So the new name for old people is “Jenkins” when I refer to men, “Mabel” when it’s a woman and “Jefferson’s” when I’m referring to a group of old people.

OK, let’s get started…

First of all, what’s the deal with all the Mable’s being allowed to drive, even though they can’t see over the steering wheel?

I’ve seen this countless times…earlier in my life (last week) I believed that all Mable’s have the ability to see through certain objects. Much to my dismay; I was told by a reliable source (Discovery channel) that they could NOT in fact see through objects, rather they mostly just guess where they’re driving.

When it comes to driving, I think that all Jefferson’s should have a special demerit system that only applies to them…a three-strike system, much like black people. Each time a cop, or even a citizen, spots a Jenkins or a Mabel performing a very stupid maneuver in their vehicle they issue that Jefferson a strike. This can range anywhere from parking in the middle of 2 spaces, going 20 km on the highway or even having their blinking on for an extended amount of time.

Go ahead and tell me that won’t work!

Well, I don’t care what you say.

ANNNNYWAYS…

Has anyone ever got stuck behind an Mabel in line to a bank? Jenkins are much better at dealing with line-ups at Banks, grocery stores etc. but there’s something about a Mabel being at the front of a line that just screams “YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE FOR-FUCKING-EVER, AREN’T YOU?!?”

This particular Mabel caused my casual trip to the bank into a 20 minute marathon of dirty looks. This Mabel had one of those old debit books, you know the booklets that keep track out your transactions. Does anyone even use those things anymore? No? Everyone has a computer? Thought so…

So this Mabel was going through EVER FUCKING SINGLE TRANSACTION and having the bank teller look up where each one had taken place. Geez Louise!

And you know I have no fucking patience, but the guy in front of me was even more fuming than me. One, because he had been waiting there longer than me but more importantly because when he actually got to the counter the girl couldn’t help him. He needed a 20 changed into dimes but apparently they were out of dimes.

He was red in the face, screaming random shit as he was leaving the bank….

“HOW CAN A BANK BE OUTTA DIMES, I mean I never thought it could…(fades in the fog)”

There was no fog, but nice touch right?

Ok this seems like a good point to say that I love my Jefferson’s, I mean my grandparents…they’re all pretty badass. My grandmas doesn’t drive often and my grandpa is quite capable of driving a vehicle so I know there’s no one out there getting stuck behind them in traffic or lines etc.

But even after all that, I feel we still need the Jefferson’s of the world. After all, what would this world be without them?